


Potter's Pastries

by glitterfox19



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, With A Twist, foolish al, scorpius is the Best in this oml
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 06:33:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13921401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterfox19/pseuds/glitterfox19
Summary: What if Al never finished Hogwarts?





	Potter's Pastries

The incessant pinging was happening again. It hurt Albus’ ears. Albus felt his tight-lipped smile to his exasperated customer wear even thinner. “So sorry, just a moment, I’ll be right back to finish ringing up your cake, yeah?” he mumbled apologetically before ducking around the corner to the back of the store.

What appeared to most Muggles as an empty parking lot was, in reality, the backside of Potter’s Pastries, a wizarding baking shop. Usually, the charms Albus put up worked like… well, a charm. He was quite proud of that joke, actually. However, there was one particular Muggle who was rather slippery and managed to see right through the wards.

Albus whispered a charm so the alarm would stop ringing, before turning and smiling at the man who was gaping, slack-jawed, at Albus. “Oh my God, you came out of nowhere!” exclaimed the annoyingly familiar young man. Albus wanted to pull out his own hair. The Muggle said that every time.

Standing on the line between the wizarding world and the Muggle world was a tall, willowy blonde Muggle who was paler than Albus’ best vanilla cream. His hair flopped around when he was excited (which happened every time he entered the bakery), and his favorite treat was the owl-shaped vanilla and blackberry cookies that hooted.

Not that Albus paid any attention, anyway. It was useful for marketing was all. He stuffed his hands in his jean pockets (far easier to cook without robes on) and took a deep breath. “My name is Al Potter. Welcome to Potter’s Pastries. I hope the experience is…” he paused, chewing on his lip. “Magical.”

The joke never got old. Neither did leading the Muggle into the shop. Each time he had the exact same reaction: he would say “Oh Golly!” while putting a hand over his mouth, before clinically analyzing baked goods for sale. However, while he behaved like a seven year old child let loose in Honeydukes for the first time, he never seemed to be superbly confused by all the enchantments. It almost seemed natural to him. 

Albus slipped into his forgiving, customer-service persona again to help the now-angry witch behind the counter. “Who’s that man over there? Why is he getting free samples?”

“My second cousin,” Albus responded flippantly. “He’s a bit… slow, you know. Not nice to poke fun.” The old witch tutted, before going into more detail about how she wanted the cat on top of the cake to actually meow the words ‘Happy Birthday Audrey.’

 

The hours flew by as he worked. In fact, Albus completely forgot about the Muggle in the first place. After he’d finished closing up the shop, he startled with surprise upon seeing the Muggle grinning at him from the counter.

“Uh, do you need something?” Albus asked hesitantly.

“How do you get all the work done if it’s just you here?” The blond man asked timidly.

“Oh, I have a secretary downstairs,” he mumbled, lying through his teeth. His wand was technically downstairs. And it technically counted as his secretary. Right?

The Muggle proceeded to reach into the counter display and pull out a multi-colored chocolate bat. It flapped its wings lazily.

“How much for this?” The Muggle inquired, before turning out all of his pockets. Albus flushed. He didn’t understand Muggle money whatsoever; he’d never had a need to.

“It’s on me,” Albus said, waving his hand dismissively. The other man pinked slightly. His cookie proceeded to bite him.

They were silent for a treacherously long moment. The Muggle, oblivious to the awkward tension lingering in the air, slowly ate his magical cookie. 

“Um,” Albus started. “Where do you live?”

“Near the station for Elephant and Castle,” the other man said. He tousled his blond hair, leaving it covered in crumbs. Albus had the urge to reach other and fix it, but kept his hands shoved tightly in his pockets.

“That’s not far. I’ll walk with you. Pack… some goodies for the road,” he mumbled.

“That’s sweet of you,” the Muggle hummed. He held out a hand. “I’m Scorpius.”

“Al.” They shook hands, which felt bizarrely formal. Albus found he didn’t want to let go of the Muggle’s hand, but forced himself to regardless. Neither of them made a move for teh door.

Albus swallowed. Normally, he’d have Oblivated the Muggle by now. He’d never before let the Muggle -- Scorpius -- stay until closing. He’d never even gathered up the courage to ask the blond man’s name. They both walked out into the cool night, Al ruffling his hair absent-mindedly, Scorpius twisting his fingers into knots.

“You feel really familiar,” Scorpius said quietly, the breeze nearly carrying away his voice. “Have we met before?”

Yes. “No.” Though he did feel a bizarre sensation of déjà vu. It’s almost like he’d met this charming guy long before he opened the bakery. “My dad’s famous, though, and I’m told I look a lot like him.

“Nah. You’re far prettier than Harry Potter,” Scorpius responded immediately.

Albus’ mouth went dry. His cheeks flushed; he was so shell-shocked that he couldn’t get his jaw to move and formulate a response.

The other man studied him carefully, his expression now more stern. Albus continued to open and close his mouth, feeling and acting like an exceptionally bewildered goldfish.

When he looked back at his companion, he noticed that Scorpius’ chin was dusted with crumbs. The other man -- wizard, Muggle, whatever -- attempted to maintain his aura of mystery for a moment longer before dissolving into laughter.

“Let’s do introductions again. Hi, I’m Scorpius. Scorpius Malfoy.” He stuck out his hand to shake, but Albus didn’t raise a finger. He felt like he wanted to murder everyone in the near vicinity and then himself.

Scorpius _bloody_ Malfoy, head of the Wizard-Muggle Relations Department at the Ministry of Magic. How hadn’t recognized him was absolutely beyond him. He wanted to curl into a small ball and never lay eyes on anyone again.

He’d… hit on Scorpius Malfoy. Like, spied on him, almost, learning his favorite treats and letting him eat as many as he wanted, flirting with him, always telling him how nice he looked… 

“I was sent in to do evaluations on small companies and their anti-Muggle wards, if applicable. Yours were actually quite strong,” Scorpius reported. “The next step was to test wizards on their handling of Muggles.”

“And?” Albus practically growled.

Scorpius blinked owlishly. “Well, you do have an… unorthodox method. But you did successfully Oblivate me all eight times, though it sometimes took you up to an hour to do so. Why was that?”

Albus groaned. “Are you gonna make me spell it out?”

“Well, yes. It’s imperative to my report that I know the reason why,” the blond wizard responded. He actually took out a Quick-Notes Quill and some parchment. Now Albus really wanted to throttle the man.

“I fancied you,” Albus said, flushing slightly.

Scorpius nodded in a detached sort of manner. “Fancied past tense?”

Albus felt his mouth drop open once again. Funny how Scorpius was good at that. “I fail to see how this is relevant to your report.” When the blond wizard raised an eyebrow at him, he added, “with all due respect, sir.”

“Answer the question, Potter.” In that moment, Scorpius Malfoy sounded so similar to his father that Albus felt he had no choice but to answer honestly.

“Fancy, present tense.” Albus scuffed the ground with his sneaker. The blond wizard grinned and put away his parchment and quill.

“Delightful.” And with one gigantic stride, Scorpius gently put his arms around Albus’ neck, stood on his tiptoes, and brought their lips together. 

Albus practically toppled over. When they separated after only half a minute, the brown-haired man smiled through half-lidded eyes. “Again, please.”

They kissed again. And again. And again. 

 

The other Scorpius Malfoy ducked behind an apartment building. His face was much more soft and far squishier than his older self. He didn’t quite have the defined cheekbones as twenty-eight year old Scorpius Malfoy, head of a Ministry Department. 

The other, younger Albus Potter’s mouth was agape. “So that’s what happens in the world where I’m forced to leave school the second I hit seventeen because I was bullied too frequently?”

The blond Slytherin boy nodded, at a loss for words. He fingered the Time Turner around his neck.

“Yse, I know, I know. We need to go save Diggory and all,” Al muttered. “But I was curious.”

Scorpius was torn between feeling exasperated with his friend -- the real one -- and being mesmerized by his older, cooler self. Who was currently snogging the older Albus Potter senseless, fingers curling around the brown locks. 

“About what?” Scorpius asked.

“I wanted to make sure that we’d still be friends, no matter what happened to the universe.” Al wasn’t looking at the blond Slytherin boy. He kicking around a pebble, eyes fixated on the ground. 

“Well, we’re friends in our timeline! So there,” Scorpius said, bumping shoulders with his friend, who proceeded to freeze. They both turned and watched as their alternate-timeline selves entwined their fingers and walked together into the night, far away from the gently illuminated Potter’s Pastries shop.

Al looked as though he wanted to say something else but had forgotten how to. Scorpius reached out and grabbed his hand, before spinning the Time Turner once again.


End file.
